


Bite Me

by homobirb



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blood Drinking, M/M, Spoilers, no beta we die like men, otherwise everything's the same lol, we got proper lube fellas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-17
Updated: 2018-09-17
Packaged: 2019-07-13 11:08:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16016654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/homobirb/pseuds/homobirb
Summary: "You're playing a dangerous game, detective.""Then let this move be considered my checkmate."Spoilers through the sixth palace.





	Bite Me

     "There's been an increase in vampire activity recently."

Akira doesn't look up, kettle in hand, steadily pouring the hot water over freshly ground coffee -- Costa Rican SHB beans, from the selection of ones Akira was trusted enough to use regularly. It takes several minutes for the coffee to fully brew in the glass below, which was plenty of time to formulate a response.

     "Is that so, detective?"

He takes the empty mug from in front of Akechi and replaces it with a full one.

     "Quite. I personally just assisted in discovering the whereabouts of one hideout. We managed to get one, a fledgling, in custody. Unfortunately, its arrest has remained entirely unhelpful as it refuses to cooperate." Akechi sighs. "At this rate, it seems we might be employing more...drastic measures to gain intel."

Akira serves himself his own small cup, of the remaining liquid from brewing Akechi's. The coffee itself has a slightly sweet aroma. He can't taste any bitterness -- he hasn't brewed a cup that had any detectable taste of bitterness in months, but he still takes every cup as another success.

The detective is still eyeing him. He's waiting, waiting for Akira to take the bait, to respond. It's a game, a dangerous one, but he'll play along. After all, refusal to participate could directly be seen as an admission of guilt and Akira isn't ready to lose, especially when he's being directly challenged like this.

     "What sort of 'drastic measures?'"

     "Ah, I'm afraid I can't answer that. Investigation secrets and all that." Akechi pauses to take a sip. Once he puts his mug down, he places a single finger on his chin, as if in thought, and muses out loud, "I wonder how long it takes for a vampire to starve to death."

Akira pulls himself away from the bar to deposit his mug in the sink, still half-full of coffee. He didn't have much appetite for coffee this late, anyway.

     "I thought torture was illegal."

     "Is it, though? If you're referring to the United Nations Convention against Torture, that only applies to humans. I believe it was amended shortly after the public discovery of vampiric existences to explicitly exclude the undead."

     "Hmm." Akira gives a noncommittal hum. He busies himself with taking a wet rag and wiping down various surfaces, then checks his wristwatch. It's five minutes past closing. Boss had already gone home and simply told him to lock up after Akechi was done.

Akechi seems to catch onto this, as he finishes the rest of his coffee in several long gulps. "If you wouldn't mind, I'd prefer to stay to continue our...discussion." His voice drops an octave on the last word and it sends a barely suppressed shiver down Akira's spine. He has to take a moment to recompose himself before he's able to reply.

     "Stay as long as you like."

Akira takes the now-empty coffee cup from in front of Akechi and places it next to his in the sink, then goes to hang up his apron. He opens the door a fraction to flip the sign to 'Closed' and bolts the door shut. He finds a seat on the barstool to the left of Akechi, resting his elbows on the bar and chin on his intertwined fingers. The detective looks at him, cold, calculating.

     "I wonder if there are any vampires in our social circle. Anyone of them could conceivably be a vampire and, arguably, it would make sense as a secret weapon, since vampiric strength would easily overpower any shadow enemy." Akechi's eyes watch him, taking in any subtle changes that occur in Akira's appearance. He reminds Akira of a predator stalking its prey.

Akira sighs then throws his hands in the air. "I give up! You're right. I can't keep it a secret anymore." Akechi's shifted to the edge of his seat, his tongue darting out to lick his lips, poised like a cat ready to pounce. With much-feigned resignation, Akira whispers, "Futaba's a vampire."

That seems to startle the detective, as he sits back on the stool and confusion flashes over his face. For all it's worth, Akechi quickly recovers, leaning back towards Akira. "Although it's tempting to call Futaba-san one of the living dead, considering her sleeping habits and aversion to large crowds, I highly doubt it would be in my right mind as a detective to assert that nearly baseless conclusion."

     "And you have the evidence necessary to come to a different conclusion?"

     "My hunch as a detective is that there is at least one vampiric Phantom Thief member...am I wrong?"

Akira adjusts his glasses, then lets one hand rest on the counter and the other fall into his lap. "Is this an interrogation?"

     "No, merely an interesting chat between friends." Akechi's eyes bore into Akira's. There's so much tension in the air of the closed café, sparks nearly flying, ready to ignite.

The detective is the first to back down, albeit temporarily. His gaze shifts over to the walls of the café, scanning lazily over the variety of beans in stock. Akira doesn't look away. He sits and observes the way Akechi tucks his hair behind his ear, the way his Adam's apple bobs as he swallows, the way his lips purse before speaking. "I've heard that a vampire's bite is supposedly pleasurable for the victim. There haven't been any public studies about the phenomenon, but vampire fangs purportedly secrete a fluid that is said to drastically increase the measure of oxytocin in the victim's bloodstream."

Akira can feel Akechi's heart beat a fraction faster. When Akechi glances over, he tongue darts out to wet his lips and his pupils are larger than normal. "Are you scared?" he asks Akechi.

     "No." Akechi slips his coat off and folds it neatly, placing it on the counter.

     "You're playing a dangerous game, detective."

     "Then let this move be considered my checkmate." He cups Akira's face between his gloved hands, then pulls his head forwards until their lips meet. The hand that was in Akira's lap flies out to rest on the junction between Akechi's neck and shoulders, thumb right over his pulse-point. The raven stands up and angles the detective so that his back hits the bar; he's trapped under the pressure of Akira's limbs and the bruising force of his kiss.

Akechi's hands shift lower. They slide down Akira's shirt, then clutch at his lapels to try to bring him even closer. A tongue slips into Akira's mouth and, before he's able to react, slides against the tip of one of his descended fangs.

Blood blooms in the vampire's mouth. He lets out a low growl and sucks on the detective's tongue. His free hand cards itself through Akechi's long hair, tugging until Akechi's neck is bared underneath him.

His lips leave the detective's -- who lets out a small whine at the loss of contact -- and trail over his cheek, his chin, down to the side of his neck. He can smell the blood, right below the surface. The veins beneath Akechi's skin nearly jump out at him and he buries his nose, inhaling deeply.

     "I'll give you one more chance to leave."

     "I'll stay."

Akira releases him, much to his chagrin. "Take off your pants and lean your hands against one of the booth's tables," he commands. Akechi's cheeks flush pink, but he does as asked while Akira walks behind the bar. The raven uses a spoon to scoop out some of the barely-used coconut oil and into a small bowl. The oil is a solid white, refined enough that it doesn't smell overtly of coconuts. He puts the oil tub away before returning to Akechi, who has shoved his pants down to his ankles and is currently sticking his rear out, hands resting on the table as told.

He doesn't resist delivering a harsh smack to Akechi's right cheek. He watches with delight as the skin nearly ripples upon contact and the tissue becomes almost imperceptibly a shade redder. Akechi lets out a shuddered breath.

He slides up right behind him, using one hand to undo his own tented trousers and slide his dick out. Placing the bowl of oil on the table near Akechi, he dips his fingers in and gets a small amount, rubbing it between hands to bring it to a warm enough temperature. "Tell me, detective," he says as he leans forward, his mouth right next to Akechi's ear, cock pressing against Akechi's left cheek. "Have you ever been fucked?"

     "N-no."

     "You're gonna love it." His hot breath ghosts over the detective's ear. His fingers, soaked with oil, rub at Akechi's entrance. One pushes past the first ring of muscle and he takes the opportunity to lick the outer shell of Akechi's ear. The detective's breath hitches.

It isn't until he's up to two fingers that Akechi speaks. "I thought- ngh, I thought you were gonna bite me." Akira scissors his fingers inside, then starts to curl them and thrust forward. The effect is immediate: Akechi gasps, then moans, canting his hips back.

     "Are you saying you want to stop?" He pauses, fingers coming to a halt inside of the teen in front of him.

     "God, no. Please. Don't stop."

Akira pushes in a third finger. "Good." He resumes stretching his digits inside of Akechi, eventually returning thrusting his fingers until moans and 'pleases' drip from Akechi's tongue. "If you're curious, sex makes blood taste sweeter. Though I've certainly never had someone as...eager as you fall into my lap." Akira lets out a dark chuckle and nips at the tip of Akechi's ear.

He pulls his fingers away, then scoops up some more oil from the bowl and thoroughly covers his cock. He wipes his fingers of excess oil on the back of Akechi's white button-up shirt. Before he has a chance to complain, Akira lines his cock up with Akechi and pushes in slowly.

     "Oh, God," Akechi whispers. He's only about halfway seated inside of him, but the way the detective's insides spasm around him has him losing his breath already. He rests his forehead against the back of Akechi's shoulder and waits for him to acclimate to the sensation.

Experimentally, he pulls out, only to push in even further. Akechi's hands scramble for purchase on the empty table, settling on gripping the edges, fingers curling hard into the finished wood.

He pauses once he's fully inside. Akira leans back to appreciate the view, of Akechi's hole, stretched tightly around his cock. His hands fall naturally onto Akechi's hips -- the teen's legs are already beginning to tremble and his knees would probably buckle as soon as Akira started moving.

Akira slides almost entirely out, then snaps his hips forward, the sound of skin slapping skin ringing out in the café. He starts off at a medium pace, trying not to rush this; he wants Akechi to really enjoy it, let the pleasure build until he's a begging mess, on the brink of orgasm, and only then will he think about burying his fangs deep in his milky white neck.

Akechi's hips start meeting him, mid-thrust. "Fuck, oh fuck, oh my god." He begins to babble out obscenities as Akira begins to speed up, slamming his hips roughly against Akechi's ass. Akira pulls him up so his back rests against his chest. His fingers pull at Akechi's tie until it's loose enough to remove. It gets dropped on the table in front of them, forgotten as soon as Akira lets go of it. He tries to work on undoing each button, but quickly gets frustrated and instead rips the shirt open, sending buttons flying across the café.

He's close. The rhythm of his hips starts to become more erratic. His left-hand holds Akechi's shirt away from his throat, his right tilting Akechi's head until his neck is bared. He licks a long stripe up the smooth skin and Akechi shudders in his grasp. His hips stutter then still as he comes inside, fangs buried in Akechi's neck.

     "Holy fuck!" Akechi's insides spasm around him, and he comes, untouched, with a shout. His fingers tug and claw at Akira's arms, squirming in his embrace, still canting his hips back. "Please, please, yes, please, oh god, please, fuck, fuck, fuck!" Akira only drinks deeper, greedily swallowing mouthfuls and mouthfuls of blood. It isn't until Akechi's movements start to calm down that he unlatches himself from his neck. Akira gives a couple more licks at the dripping blood before he fully pulls out of Akechi.

The detective has gone limp in his arms, still panting. The previously forgotten tie is used to wipe up both the come on the table and the come leaking out of Akechi, before it's once again forgotten on the table.

     "Stay the night?" Akira asks. Akechi's eyes are almost glazed over and he wordlessly nods. He slides his arm underneath his knees, then hoists him up, carrying him bridal style to the stairs.

The Phantom Thieves meet the next morning to go over their continued investigation into Sae's palace. Akechi, having gone back to his apartment before sunrise, sits at the bar in both unsoiled and un-ripped clothing, nursing a cup of coffee. Akira stands behind the counter in his green apron, already working on brewing more cups of coffee for his fellow teammates. The other thieves float in, one by one, until the only ones left to arrive were Haru and Morgana, the cat having stayed at the Beauty Thief's house the night prior.

When Futaba arrives, she doesn't acknowledge Akira nor Akechi, instead making a beeline for the booth every one else was sitting in (despite it already being at full occupancy).

     "G'morning, Futaba," Akira greets her. She pauses, then turns around to face the two.

     "H-hullo!" Her eyes nervously dart around the café, suspiciously never landing on either of them. "Uhm! I'm gonna go talk to Inari, about, uh, battle strategies!" Futaba scurries off towards the artist.

     "What's up with her?" Akechi asks as he turns back to Akira.

He pauses to think for several moments. "Hm. Oh, yeah, she still has the café bugged, so maybe that's it," Akira muses to no one in particular.

Akechi spits out his coffee.


End file.
